Partners in Crime
by a girl of many obsessions
Summary: Being condemned to a lifetime on the streets of London isn't exactly your idea of a bearable time- that is, until you meet a certain bratty blond-haired, blue-eyed boy, who just so happens to be Alois Trancy. (T just in case, one-shot! I posted this on my DA a few months back but forgot to post it here! Enjoyyy! Review and let me know what you think!)


The bitter cold tore at your frigid skin as you made your way through down, your bare feet tensing up with each icy step on the pavement. Snow had just begun to drift from the nearly dark skies, and it was time to find coverage.

Living on the streets of London since you were ten, you'd grown accustomed to this routine; every day attempting to find work, and every night returning to some place to sleep, your stomach empty.

It'd been three days since you'd last eaten. You were starving, your already skinny features growing more gaunt and skeletal by the day. Most fifteen year olds, at this time, were inside at an hour like this, enjoying supper with their families. Here you were, wandering the streets in an oversized tattered dress, face smeared with grit.

Usually you tried to beg for food, but most people glared at you or pretended they hadn't heard your raspy voice. You felt pathetic, so below everyone else. You just wanted to die. When you were ten years old, you'd run away from home; your mother had been abusive, and your father had abused alcohol. One night, when they were asleep, after you'd been beaten to the point of your arm being nearly broken, you'd thrown a few things into a bag and climbed out of your bedroom window, subjecting yourself to the harsh city streets.

Over time, you wound up selling the contents of what had been in the bag. Working a bit as a newspaper distributor until you were twelve, you were laid off when you were accused of stealing from the house of someone you had only been delivering newspaper to. Occasionally, you found work. It never stayed for long.

And now it was December; you dreaded the horrible chill that was sure to come. With no money to buy a blanket, or even a pair of shoes, you were sure to freeze to death, or possibly starve. Somehow, you'd managed to survive the past few winters. You weren't so sure if you could handle another.

Stumbling with numb feet into a darkened alley, you could just barely make out the figure of a person leaning against one of the moldy brick walls. A match was lit, and for a brief second you could see a pair of hollow blue eyes, reflecting the yellow flame, and damp golden hair. The match held against a small object, and in seconds smoke began swirling towards the sky.

The boy took a drag from the cigarette, and then realized you were standing there. "Who're you?" His voice was high, a thick accent laden with attitude.  
"I'm (y/n)," you said timidly, approaching him. "I'm not here to bother you. If you want me to leave, I can."

He shook his head, lifting the cigarette to his lips again. "You can stay. I know how nights get out there. It's better here. Not any warmer, but better."

You nodded curtly, walking forward. Your legs ached; you just wanted to lie down and sleep for a while. You were so hungry, too. What you'd give for a nice meal or clean sheets. You wondered where your parents were, or what they were doing now.

"Want a cigarette?"  
The thought of taking a drag from one, the hot smoke filling your lungs, made you tense with excitement. "Yes," you said excitedly, accepting the stick extended loosely from his hand. You held it out for him to light it, and you took an invigorating drag. It filled your insides with warmth, and you eagerly took another one. "Thanks."

"I'm Alois," he said, holding his hand close to the burning tip. "I'm fourteen. You are?"

"Fifteen." You stretched your feet in front of you and wiggled your toes, hoping to regain some feeling in them. It was nice to sit for once, and you rested your back against the stiff wall. Your feet were almost black with dirt, and you badly needed a wash. You couldn't remember the last time you'd cleaned yourself properly. Your (y/h/c) hair fell in greasy clumps in front of your face, and your entire body was covered in filth.

"Why're you here?"

"Ran away from home when I was little. You?"

"I was a slave. With my little brother Luka. For a horrible man," he paused, and you shifted uncomortably. "I escaped. Unfortunately my brother-" his voice cracked and you turned away.

"I'm sorry," you offered, and he breathed in smoke.

"Where'd you get the cigarettes?"

"That don't matter. What matters is that I have them. And plenty." He held up a black bag that laid next to him, revealing a loaf of bread and at least twenty loose cigarettes. Your jaw slackened, and he smirked. "What? Never seen food before?"

Before you could respond, he tossed the bag down. "Long as I keep my technique in check, I'll never starve or lack in cigs."

"How-?"

"Obviously I stole 'em. I can't get work in this sespool lookin' like this, ya know. S'easy. You just hide somewhere near a food stand or somethin', and then you take it. Just one or two, so no one notices roit away. Then you get the bloody hell out of there."

"But- that's illegal," you murmured, in shock that this boy could take things that weren't his so nonchalantly. It had crossed your mind a few times before to steal, but your conscience had always stopped you. That, and the fear of being caught and taken to the police. "And what if you're caught?"

"So? It hasn't happened, so why should I care? I'll cross that bridge when I get to it." He had a good point. In the situation that you were in, what was the point of abiding by rules? Why die of starvation when you could simply take from the boldly presented markets? It wasn't like you were taking everything. One item missing couldn't do any harm, could it?

You shrugged. "May I have another cigarette? Or a small piece of bread? Please."

He turned to his bag and passed you the entire loaf along with two cigarettes without a hint of reluctance. Gratefully, you acquired his favors and bit into the bread hungrily. You felt a little stupid the way you were choking down the food, but it tasted so good, and your stomach hadn't seen the pleasure of being filled in days. When you finally finished, you tilted your head back and rested it against the wall.

"I guess you enjoyed that, then," he laughed weakly, and you nodded, grabbing one of the cigarettes he'd given you. You let him light it, and then smoked it quickly. You hadn't felt so lively in years.

Eventually you found yourself asleep; your head gently rested against his slim shoulder while you tucked your feet into the crooks of your folded legs, trying to keep them warm. Snow gently laid itself on your hair and face, but you drifted nonetheless. It was freezing, but your insides felt warm.

In the morning, you awoke to find it was a sunny day, despite it being bitterly cold. You rolled onto your back, head aching, and remembered where you were all at once. Turning your head, you realized Alois had gone. Your finished cigarettes from the night before laid as proof that it hadn't been one elaborate dream, and your stomach felt satisfied. You hoped he wasn't abandoning you; you wanted to have a companion for once.

You were rifled by footsteps, and you realized it was Alois returning to his spot. You took the bright sunlight as an opportunity to examine his appearance in better light this time; he was tall, very thin, and wore ratty pants with a ripped shirt. His face was ivory and pale, and his hair fell messily over his eyes. In his hand was a bag, the same one from last night.

"I've got you something." He reached inside, and revealed for you a pair of leather shoes. Your eyes widened, and he gave you his signature teasing half smile. Throwing them to you, you quickly put them on. Next he took out a loaf of bread and a small jug of milk.  
"Supper time," he laughed. "But tonight I'll have to teach you how to get your own food. I can't keep sharin' mine."

Splitting the bread and allowing you to take a few swigs of his milk, the two of you chatted about your experiences on the street and what your plans for the future were. You revealed to him your dream was to write books. With vacant eyes, he told you his dream.  
"My dream in life is to get revenge. On everyone who's ever done me wrong, you know? And have a nice big mansion and a butler and servants and all kind of food and have the best clothes."

"Sounds suitable," you said approvingly, finishing the last bite of your bread. "How do you suppose you'd go about getting revenge?"

"I'd kill everyone, of course. Anyone who's ever done anything at all to me. Any glare at me when I sat in the streets, anyone who's refused me food. I'd kill them all."

You didn't respond, but considered this. Was this really necessary? You understood his anger, but you weren't sure if you'd be as violent.

"C'mon, I'll take you to a food stand that's real easy to steal from. Let's go." He tugged you out of the alley, and you followed behind him clumsily. The lack of hardness against bare feet was an unexpected, but appreciated change; the leather shoes protected your feet and kept them warm. It was something most people had, but never took the time to be thankful for.

For the rest of the day, he showed you how to steal things. He taught you the techniques of being silent, of tricking adults into trusting you. Even of successfully stealing sweets as celebratory snacks. By the next day, you were a pro. The two of you went through town taking and eating, and you'd never been so satisfied.

The two of you, over the next few months, became partners in crime.

When it rained, you would skillfully unclothe and, in just your sheer undergarments, would let the droplets fall against your skin and let the dirt run away in brown streams, valleys in the grooves of your bodies.

When it snowed, you'd pack produce you'd stolen in the icy walls and saved them for other days. You'd steal handfuls of sweets from jars and trade them in the alley, joking and laughing the whole time. For once in your life, you were happy. For once in your life, you were nourished and clothed and warm and... loved.

There, you said it. You knew Alois loved you. You weren't sure if you loved him in a brotherly way or in a romantic way; all you knew was that you both looked out for each other. Alois needed a person as much as you did; you were simply there to make sure the other was never hurt.

For a year, the two of you remained side by side. You'd even discovered the way of hiding in shops after closing hours, and stocking up on goods once the doors were securely locked. When the morning finally came, you'd hastily exit the back door, Alois on your trails, before the shop owners could discover they'd been robbed.

Of course, there was the easy pickpocketing method, but that had flaws in itself. It was much easier to steal food or clothes or whatever else rather than money; Money was small and hidden and not obvious, whereas food was the opposite. After stealing for the day, you and Alois would lounge in the alleyway casually, smoking cigarettes and indulging on the day's income. Sometimes you would etch drawings into the bricks with jagged rocks, and other times you would wrestle.

This particular day, the two of you were sitting on the ground, and Alois was giggling about something he'd seen earlier. Dancers at a show he'd snuck into, from Spain, you believed. He recounted one term they'd say a lot- "Ole." He mimicked their dancing, and you laughed along with him, puffing on your cigarette. The curls of smoke drifted from behind your lips, blurring your vision of him.

It was nice, having someone to be with. You both were in poverty, obviously, but you both made everything bearable for the other. Someday, you hoped you would live together in a house. You'd help Alois exact his revenge and become wildly rich, and he'd help you spin ideas of gold for books you'd be sure to write. Maybe they'd wind up in libaries, or maybe the bookshelves of professors and celebrities. Perhaps.

The two of you were only teenagers, but the future seemed so clear. Alois would be by your side, obviously. He had a snarky side, but it didn't bother you much. You knew he cared about you, and of course he never would hurt you. He was a good person inside- he simply had to build up a wall to protect himself from outsiders who wanted to hurt him. That was the sort of thing that came from living alone for so long.

It was nearing your birthday, and as you padded through the streets scoping for a shop to steal from, you realized you were turning sixteen. That was pretty old, you thought, realizing you'd been with Alois for nearly a year. Your birthday was September, and you'd met him in December. Ten whole months since you'd first met the light of your life.

You casually took an apple from a stand, and the owner didn't notice at all; you bit into it and continued walking, wondering where Alois was. Maybe he was hanging out with a few of the other boys from a nearby slum. He did like to play baseball with them on the occasion. You couldn't be bothered with sports; it was just so dull to you.

When night finally rolled around, you headed back to your designated spots in the alley way, which everyone knew not to inhabit. It was your place, belonging to only Alois and you. Nobody dared take the place, fearing Alois' wrath. You liked it that way, just the two of you. Nobody was there to disturb you.

You waited for a couple of minutes, and Alois finally arrived, looking disheveled. Raising your eyebrows, amused, you chuckled. "Where've you been?" He lit a cigarette and put it to his lips before sinking down next to you. Flashing you the smirk he always gave when he was keeping something from you, you crossed your arms.

"What are you hiding?"

"Well, it is your birthday. I suppose I should give you a present."

"What?"

"Well..." He reached into his coat pocket and produced a plain white envelope. He handed it to you coyly, and you looked at him confusedly. "What's this?"

"Open it."

You did, slowly, hands shaking only slightly. Inside were a few bills, adding up to about six pounds. You let out a slight gasp, eyes widening. "Where on earth did you get all this-"

"I got a job," he blurted, face crossed with excitement. His turquoise eyes had lit up, and you sat, aghast, your lips parted in shock. You had no idea what to say.  
"For the past week I've been working. That's why we haven't been together much, I was working. I got a job, and- and there's an available position for you, too. I didn't want to tell you until your birthday. I thought it'd be a nice surprise."

"God, Alois," you murmured, looking down at the bills in disbelief again. "I can't believe you!" You embraced him in a hug that threw him back, and in a bout of exictement returned to his face and kissed him hard and sloppily. When you parted, he raised an eyebrow and let out a small fraction of a laugh.

"I didn't know you liked me that way," he said, pulling you in closer. "But now that I do, I guess it's okay to do this."

He kissed you again, this time more delicately, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you protectively towards him. You hugged him close, lips melded against his perfectly, taking in his warmth. It was amazing, and you were all too happy to question what had just happened. He had a job, and an open position for you too; your dreams seemed like they were coming closer to what you'd always discussed so late in the night when it'd seemed like nothing at all was possible.

He broke the kiss, a mischevous look on his face this time. "And you know how I said I wanted a butler?"

"Yeah..." you were apprehensive, only because Alois was unpredictable. You could never really guess what he was going to say.

"Well, I found out about a deal. A contract, I guess. And there's this man named Claude..."


End file.
